“Stop yelling at me, Shelly,” Hairball said to his old lady.

“Miss Richards called and said Morgan had beer on his breath at the Pre-K-graduation rehearsal,” Shelly said. “In case you forgot, Morgan is five years old.”

“I’m not the one who named a newborn baby boy after her favorite spiced rum,” said Hairball, whose Crushers Motorcycle Club brothers gave him his club name after watching him hacking so hard smoking dope one night he reminded them of a feral cat coughing up a hairball.

“If Miss Richards calls my parole agent he might send me back to finish my shoplifting sentence,” Shelly said.

“So we accuse the kid of breaking into my gun slash liquor cabinet,” Hairball said.

“That you keep unlocked and loaded around the clock,” said Shelly

“I told Morgan he can shoot my favorite deer rifle whenever he feels strong enough to lift that 30-30 cannon to his shoulder,” Hairball said. “You never know when the weightlifting I make him do every morning before he goes to school will pay off.”

“Maybe pumping iron with you in the cellar already did pay off,” Shelly said. “Miss Richards said Morgan told her she needed to get herself a real man like him.”

Hairball laughed so hard he choked like an alley cat gagging on fish bones.

“We’re he-men, me and Morgan,” he said when he caught his breath. “We got predator instincts you’ll never understand. Cavemen just like us killed all them dinosaurs extinct.”

“I’m serious, goddammit,” Shelly said. “I don’t want Morgan hunting sabre-tooth tigers at recess or drinking after shave lotion like you did last New Year’s Eve when we ran out of booze.”

“At least he’ll smell good at his funeral,” Hairball said. “And if he can’t drink what’s he going to do at our wedding reception when he gets tired chasing flower girls? Mommy’s going to deprive a thirsty little hillbilly a couple of cold ones?”

“I swear to God you better never let me catch you giving him alcohol here at home.”

“So why’d Santa bring him his own German beer stein last Christmas with his name and the Third Reich eagle engraved on the front?”

“For his juice!!!!”

“You’re the one told him his sippy cup made him look gay.”

 “I mean it, Hairball.”

“Relax, Shelly, I only gave him one 16 ounce can of Reading beer last week when he needed a drink.”

“Why did he need a drink, Hairball?”

“Because he was crying.”

“Why was he crying????”

“Morgan said the needle ‘hurted’ his arm when I was finishing up coloring the hula girl he wanted for his first tattoo.”